The Trouble with Perfect has been picked by Dubrays as one of their Dubray Favourites this month. Thank you to everyone there and especially Sinead the Children’s Buyer in Kilkenny for recommending Trouble!
Also it’s no 1 in their Kilkenny Bookshop which is a huge bonus!
I'm so delighted that A Place Called Perfect has been chosen for The Tom Fletcher Books Club with WHSmith. Here's the announcement video and a clip of Tom reading from my book...surreal!
I remember when I self published A Place Called Perfect I wanted to make sure it was as polished as possible so that it didn’t look out of place on any bookshelf. The publishing world can be hard on self published authors and if you want to get out there into shops and garner reviews you need to look professional.
I decided to self published because it seemed to be the way the industry in America was going. A lot of authors self published, got reviews and sales figures then approached a publisher. I’m a graphic designer, it’s my job to design things so I thought it was a logical step to self publish. I finished the book, got in an editor and started to design the cover.
Perfect is a book for both boys and girls and I wanted the cover to not alienate anyone. I chose a neutral colour, a sea green. Then I illustrated the town and the Archers and framed them with lots of elements from the story such as eyeballs, skulls, tea, jars and of course the glasses. I chose to leave the illustrations in white outline as I felt they looked stark and slightly spooky against the green.
I was delighted with the outcome of my self published version, it didn’t look amateur at all I told myself. Now I’m rethinking that notion. As I look at the two covers together I’m beyond happy with Usborne and Karl Mountfords interpretation of the story. The cover makes the older version pale.
I can’t disregard my self published attempt though, it helped in a huge way to get a publisher. I would never take it back and it will sit proudly on my shelf alongside it’s new big brother!
I’ve been employed to sell the devils work. I’ve branded him, not with irons, the pen is more permanent and now I’m illustrating his tale (and tail, either word works!)
It’s a recession, an appropriate time to sell my soul!
We set off from different locations, Monica headed down from Kilkenny while I cut across from Cork. We talked about it the night before and decided against going naked all day, it could cause havoc on the motorways, not to mention trying to get a coffee afterwards.
We met in Youghal at a wrong turn, I took the wrong turn, Monica of course was on track, so I followed her silver car to the Quality Hotel. A little late for registration we made straight for reception. All eyes were downcast as we passed, everyone seemed a little embarrassed.
“But we still have our clothes on?” I questioned my younger sister, who for years has patiently played my elder.
“It’s okay Helena, they’re probably doing the dip too,”
“God if it’s like this now, what’s it going to be like on the beach,”
“Just don’t look down,” my sister warned as if we were about to climb Everest.
Registration went smoothly and we were sent to our nudie location. There the spirits were livelier, a buzz had descended on the place and some confident dippers were already in the nip. We averted our eyes and made chit chit with lots of other nervy swimmers. The main discussion point was how close the men’s dipping location appeared to be to ours, one of our new friends extremely concerned about this, questioned obsessively until we got an answer.
“See those pink balloons way down there,” we turned our heads, without my glasses I hadn’t a notion, “and those blue ones way down there,” our heads turned the opposite direction, “the pinks are where the women go in and the blue are for the men, you’ll be specks!”
There was a mass release of pent up air, the fellas were ages away. Even if their bits were massive, we’d never see them!
Next we headed for the tent, here we got our first taste. No one was shy and naked women sauntered this way and that, I had to get changed beside a women who insisted on poking her hairy bare bottom into my face. Everyone made an effort, body paint, wigs, feather boas, ivy scarves, we felt a little under dressed and vowed should we do it again we’d make more of an effort.
On the beach the tension rose, old and young giggled like school children and I shifted hastily from foot to foot, more nervous than the start of any race. Mon took out her camera and tried to sneak a few pictures. Close to eight the countdown began, everyone trotted on the spot, “ten, nine, eight, seven…” at three we shed our dressing gowns and got caught in the moment. All thirty to forty of us screamed and ran head long into the freezing waters. Everything on everyone wobbled and it felt good, real. The laughter was infectious.
We were in it together, friends supporting their friends, sisters supporting their mother, families supporting their father, wrapped in the energy and it was amazing. One women who’s bottom read “I kicked Cancers ass!” hugged her friend “we’ve done a lot of crazy things but this is definitely the craziest,” she screamed. A round of ole, ole, ole, ole broke out and we became a pack of naked soccor supporters.
As we walked back onto the beach, all self consciousness washed away by the sea, it didn’t matter anymore that we were naked, it seemed silly to put back on our clothes, this thought lasted until I reached my gown.
The moment though amazing had felt too short and as women shed their clothes once more and rushed for the waters, I looked at Monica.
“Do it again?” she nodded and we headed back in with the others. This time we stayed for a while to keep the feeling.
After the dip, men and women met for tea and food on the beach, there was a quiet calm, and we watched the waters play with the shoreline on this sunny Sunday morning. Then we wrote a message for the rag tree, our reason for this our mother, bid our new friends goodbye til next year and headed for Youghal.
Over coffee we couldn’t quite grasp what we’d done, what we felt or what it meant, but we were happy, it was sunny and life was good. Today as I write this is the last day of my mothers treatment, seems fitting!
Thanks a million to everyone for the support, we hope you’ll all come back with us next year, at the risk of sounding like a hippy, it was liberating!! Fundraising stays open for another month so if you feel like sending a few bob our way just click here
Great Christmas advert from Harvey Nicks!
This is a little something I’ve been working on (I think they call it a work in protest), which is taking ages, it consists of lots of little doddles and drawings, its all hand drawn (if you know what I mean, I know it has to get to the computer at some stage!)
Anyway I decided to upload a quick screen grab of it as I have just finished layering up and am happy with the results, plus I haven’t blogged in a while and am too lazy to explore the interweb for inspiration!
I saw this mans work on the internet and I knew I had to blog about him, it’s taken a while. I’d love to say that’s because I was jet setting with Brangelina, then stopped by Paris to visit Johnny and finally took at break at Buckingham Palace for a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit (it was a little soggy, I’m not sure they’re biscuit fans) before returning to my computer. Unfortunately if I was to say that it’d be a blatant lie and who am I if not honest!
So Kyle Bean is his name and I don’t think there is anything he cannot do with cardboard. He’s from Brighton and works freelance on craft models, props and art direction. His clients include BBC, editorial illustrations for the New York Times Magazine and shop window displays for Selfridges, Liberty and Hermes.
I especially love his Laundry Day Video which you can find here
Visit his site KyleBean.co.uk to view his portfolio, its worth the trip!
I just came across these images today, they are from the Louboutin Spring/Summer 2011 collection entitled Louboutin Spring Summer Tour by Khuong Nguyen. I think they are brilliant, very inventive and the shoes ain’t too bad either.
Only issue now is how to afford them?
Well I have always said when they do it in London they do it right!
Who wants a lady bathing in public or her haggard sister pushing a wheel barrow not to mention the over sized sewing needle, when you can have a bronzed boy on a rocking horse and a great big blue cockeral?
The next two commissions for London’s Trafalgar Square will include a bronze figure of a boy on a rocking horse by artists Elmgreen & Dragset and a large ultramarine cockerel by Katharina Fritsch…
Berlin and London-based artists Elmgreen & Dragset will unveil their sculpture “Powerless Structure” in 2012; while Fritsch’s sculpture “Hahn/Cock” will appear in 2013.
I am not one who professes to know much about public art outside of whether I like the piece or not. All art by nature is subjective and what I like is likely not what the person next to me will find arousing, so lets see how the cock fairs!
